


The Break

by mssdare



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Broken Bones, Catheters, Christmas, Depression, Doctors & Physicians, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Merlin Holidays, Merlin holidays 2017, Mutual Masturbation, Physical Therapy, References to Suicide, Shower Sex, hols
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-28 17:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13276122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssdare/pseuds/mssdare
Summary: Merlin's leg was badly broken in an accident. He has no friends or family visiting him in the hospital and suffers from depression and loneliness. Arthur works in the hospital as a physical therapist and Merlin becomes one of his patients.





	The Break

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elirwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elirwen/gifts).



> Written as a Merlin Holidays gift for elirwen, for this prompt: Merlin's leg was badly broken in a car accident (or you can choose whatever injury that would need physical therapy). He has no friends or family visiting him in the hospital (he's new to the city) and suffers from depression and loneliness. Arthur works in the hospital as a physical therapist and Merlin becomes one of his patients.
> 
> Dear elirwen - I hope you'll like where I went with your idea! It was such a lovely one and I had a lot of fun working on it! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you S for betaing and V for the Britpick!  
> Many thanks for the mods for running this fest and keeping Merlin fandom alive and kicking! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I've done as much research about broken bones, hospitals and physical therapy as possible, but I'm not a trained physician nor PT, so if you see any awful mistakes - let me know and I'll do my best to fix them! :)

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

The new doctor’s smile was blinding like the sun, too bright and hot for Merlin to bear. Merlin, too, was jolted with an all-consuming sensation that he knew this man, but surely he’d remember this handsome face and blue eyes if they’d met before?

“I…” Merlin’s voice was still hoarse from the anaesthesia and the silent crying he’d done at night when he’d felt too weak to stop feeling sorry for himself. He’d pulled himself together since then, but some weariness persisted. “No, I don’t think so.”

The new guy looked pensive or a bit disappointed. A tiny frown appeared on his face like thick clouds shading the sun, and Merlin had to fight the urge to wave his hand to swipe those non-existent clouds away.

“In that case”—the sun-doctor straightened his back and put that megawatt smile on his face again—“let me introduce myself. I’m Arthur and I’ll be taking care of your physiotherapy while you’re here with us.”

Merlin couldn’t have heard him right. He’d been on the operating table only twenty-four hours before, and he couldn’t even imagine _blinking_ without pain, never mind doing any actual exercises. He wanted to say that out loud, but he didn’t have strength to vocalise his thoughts. He just lay there instead, silent and terrified.

“I know you might still feel a little sore, but we need to mobilize you as soon as possible in order to ensure that your muscles don’t lock up and that you regain full range of motion quickly.”

Merlin thought that calling him “a little bit sore” might have been a joke at his expense. He’d broken his tibia in three places and fractured his fibula; it was all being held together by pins and rods—a significant amount of hardware; it hurt like fucking hell; and also every single part of his body was still _screaming_ from the fall, from the rough treatment later, and from the horror of being so sick after the anaesthesia that he’d been sure he’d die, shivering and puking his guts out for _hours_. Now, he was more or less settled in the familiar limbo of the constant ache, mixed with the soft despair always present at the back of his mind. He was sure that the only thing making his situation bearable at all was the grace of the cocktail of painkillers, antibiotics and fluids being pumped into his veins.

“Don’t worry,” the sun-doctor—Arthur, the physiotherapist—said gently, as if he’d read Merlin’s thoughts. “We’ll start gradually, just to make sure you’re adjusting well. Is there anything you’d like me to know about your condition that is not in your chart? Any past injuries, and so forth?”

Merlin didn’t respond, just stared, trying to remember if he’d ever been injured before, because he must have been—even before the fall his body had been in so much pain, his limbs heavy, stomach always cramping and headaches making his vision spotty. He must have been silent for too long, though, since Arthur had taken it as a “no” and an invitation to proceed. He smiled again, and Merlin closed his eyes for a moment. The amount of confidence this man radiated was just… wrong.

When he opened his eyes again, he was eye-level with a sprig of holly tucked into the breast pocket of Arthur’s scrubs, and of course Merlin had forgotten that it was Christmas tomorrow. He was probably going to spend it here, in a hospital bed. Not that it would be that different from spending this day curled up under a pile of blankets in Merlin’s room and trying to survive without breaking down too much. _Brilliant._ Now he had the opportunity to spiral in front of all the hospital staff, the blond God of Sun included.

“Okay. I want you to try and flex your foot for me, please.”

Merlin exhaled and looked at his foot. Everything was swollen—his knee was the worst since it was where the titanium rod had been anchored to stabilize the tibia, but also his ankle and whole lower leg had puffed up significantly—and it felt alien, as if it wasn’t a part of his own body. He tried to do as he’d been asked and flex his foot, but a stab of pain shot through his whole leg and he had to bite his lip and shut his eyes tight to keep himself from crying out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hating to disappoint the blond god. When he opened his eyes a moment later it was to Arthur frowning, and Merlin found that he could no longer keep his tears from spilling down his cheeks after all. “Sorry,” he muttered again, mortified, covering his face with his hand. “I’m not usually this weepy. It’s just…”

“Don’t worry,” Arthur said lightly, but the frown was still there. “It’s completely normal to be overwhelmed after a serious injury.” He hesitated. “If I may ask, what do you do for a living?”

At least this question was quite easy for Merlin to answer. “I’m an electrician. I work at construction sites, hence the...” He gestured to his leg.

“Right.” Arthur nodded. “So not a pro footie player, or a ballet dancer, or a figure skater, ah?” He smiled.

Merlin honest-to-God chuckled at that. It felt as if he’d forgotten how to laugh and it came out a bit rough, but it was there. “No,” he said.

“Small babies under your care? Elderly parents? Demanding girlfriend?”

“No, it’s just me.”

Arthur cocked his head, assessing Merlin’s answer. “Not in charge of six cats, are you?”

Merlin shook his head. _Just caring for myself, and can’t even do that right_ , he thought savagely, but Arthur didn’t seem at all disappointed by this news. In fact, his smile seemed to brighten, if anything.

“Very well,” Arthur said. “Don’t worry, then, Merlin, I’ll make sure to have you up and walking within the next twenty-four hours, okay?”

Merlin nodded, although he very much doubted so.

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours then and we’ll get on with it. For now, rest up!” With that, Arthur straightened up and turned to leave.

*

Merlin felt a delicate touch on his leg. It was so different to all the prodding and poking the doctors and nurses did that he deliberated not opening his eyes and keeping the dream going, but he couldn’t ignore it for too long. He peered up at the God of Sun—Arthur—bending over him again and applying gentle pressure with his fingers, examining the screws that were pierced through Merlin’s skin. Arthur’s fingers were cool and felt good on Merlin’s swollen flesh.

“Hello. Did the beauty sleep help?” Arthur smiled.

Outside the window it was pitch-dark, but it was hard to tell what time of the day it was with it getting dark at 3:00 p.m. in December.

“How do you feel?” Arthur asked when Merlin didn’t answer his first question.

Merlin tried to catalogue his current sensations. The painkillers that had been pushed into his IV by the nurse earlier were still quite effective, since he was ache-free, light and fuzzy, weightless, almost floating. The only uncomfortable thing that remained was the pressure of the catheter they’d inserted into Merlin’s dick. The feeling of fullness was always there, making him squirm with the desire to just pull it out and go take a piss the regular way.

He moved his head left and right and tried to swallow over the dryness in his throat. “Okay,” he rasped and tried to swallow again.

“Here.” Arthur passed him a plastic cup filled with water, and the gesture—simple and done without pity—made Merlin teary-eyed _again._ He honestly wasn’t that emotional normally, but something about people focusing on him, noticing him, touching him and caring for him, made him want to wail. He’d grown so used to being invisible, to not having anyone even greet him with a handshake or a head nod, that sometimes he thought he’d really become a ghost.

“I’ve brought you crutches, so you may get excited about getting up already, but let’s start with simpler things first. Can you flex your feet for me again, now?”

To his surprise Merlin found that he could. The recent dose of painkillers must have enabled it, and he indeed could not only flex and point his foot but also push on the elastic resistance band Arthur brought with him. And when Arthur made him bend his knee and place his foot flat on the bed he only winced. They proceeded slowly like that for a few more repetitions, Merlin getting a bit sweaty and shaky from the exertion even though the movements looked simple enough.

“Let’s get you up now.” When Arthur took Merlin’s hand to help him sit up on the bed, Merlin almost threw up from nerves and the sudden vertigo he experienced. Arthur steadied him with a firm grip on his shoulders and said something that didn’t quite register through the buzzing in Merlin’s ears. Merlin put his legs carefully down, afraid that the pain would kill him any moment now. The position pulled on his catheter again and he took a sharp breath.

“Too much?” Arthur asked, and Merlin flushed because he was _not_ telling this handsome young doctor that it wasn’t his leg but his _dick_ that was hurting. But Arthur wasn’t moving, clearly waiting for an answer, and Merlin groaned.

“No. No, it’s fine. It’s just this tube. It’s pulling on my…” He cringed at the idiocy of his words and his inability to talk about it with a trained professional.

“Ah.” Arthur nodded. “Of course. Let me have someone pull it for you; I don’t see a reason why you’d still need it now that you’ll be able to move around.” He pushed the button near Merlin’s bed before Merlin could prevent him from doing so.

The thing was, Merlin would never, ever have called for help. He wouldn’t dare push a button to disturb a nurse’s busy shift with his own insignificant requests. A moment later, the nurse who was tending to Merlin earlier poked her head inside Merlin’s room.

“Gwen, can you take out Mr. Emrys’ catheter? It’s getting in the way here.”

“Oh, right! I’m sorry,” she exclaimed. “It’s a madhouse today. Arthur, can you be a darling and do it for me? I know it's not in your scope of work but I know you can do it and I need to run to room 506. If not, I can come back in a few.”

Arthur waved her off. “Sure.”

“Thanks! Your Highness is a lifesaver!” She blew a kiss, curtsied with emphasis, and hurried to the other room.

Merlin wanted to shout that he very strongly disagreed with her assessment, and that having the Sun-God’s hands on his limp and probably sweaty dick with a plastic tube sticking out of it wasn’t in his plans for today or, like, ever, but Arthur was already going to the sink to disinfect his hands and put on some rubber gloves.  

“Sorry,” Arthur said. “It’s not a thing I usually do, so forgive me if I’m a bit rusty and not gentle enough. But I promise you I have the training for this. I used to work as a nurse before I went into the PT. Lean back for me, please.”

Merlin was drowning in an ocean of embarrassment, his face and ears on fire. He was sure that he was red as a beetroot. He wasn’t sure where to look, but shutting his eyes would make this predicament even weirder.

“Your Highness?” he asked, aiming at lightness, but his throat was constricted and he sounded more horrified than teasing.

“Just a joke that’s been going on around here. Because I’m the son of the hospital’s director. Plus, _some_ employees”—he motioned to the door where the nurse had disappeared—“tell me I act like a royal asshole all the time. Which I most certainly do not.”

Merlin smiled. He could maybe see slight undertones of royal behaviour in how Arthur held himself or phrased some of his sentences.

Merlin didn’t have much time to think about it, though, because Arthur reached towards his crotch. Merlin held his breath. He wanted the earth to split beneath him and consume him until he’d be buried under tons of dirt. Arthur unclipped the plastic collection bag from where it was attached to Merlin’s thigh and deflated the balloon that was holding the catheter inside Merlin’s bladder. The relief was immediate and Merlin sighed.

“Deep breath now,” Arthur said after a while, and Merlin thought that his embarrassment must have rubbed off on Arthur, as he looked a bit uncomfortable himself. He wasn’t looking at Merlin, thankfully, focusing on the task at hand.

“Breathe out now, slowly.” He pulled gently on the tube and it slid out in one fluid motion, some urine trickling behind that Arthur mopped up with sterile wipes he had at hand. Then he dabbed the tip of Merlin’s cock with an antiseptic and got up to toss the tubes and gloves into the medical waste bin.

That was the weirdest non-sexual—but somehow extremely intimate—situation that Merlin had ever been subjected to. He was still sitting there mortified, but relieved not to have anything sticking out of his dick anymore. _And he was crying yet again,_ for fuck’s sake. Apparently, that was his default state here in this hospital. He couldn’t remember ever crying this much in his life, and certainly not in recent years. Sure, he was sad most of the time, or maybe indifferent was a better word; he often felt numb no matter what was happening, and he often pretended he didn’t exist at all, so the crying was a novelty he really didn’t need.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, and Merlin, once again, tried in vain to calm himself down and look more dignified. He covered his dick with the edge of the ugly white-and-blue-dotted hospital gown and avoided any eye contact with Arthur.

“I don’t know why I’m so emotional,” he choked out, angry with himself, trying very hard to make it sound normal and not like he’d been sobbing again. “Maybe I hit my head too when I fell.”

“Hmm,” Arthur said. “Your neurological tests are all good.”

Merlin nodded. He’d been examined thoroughly. Since the accident had happened on the job, they had to have proper documentation for his insurance claim. He’d had X-rays and an MRI of his whole leg, and he’d even had a CT scan of his head done, assessing him for brain damage. Perhaps that was a legit concern since he’d fallen down one whole storey, more than six meters high. Maybe they should do the scan again.

“But perhaps talking to someone about what happened might be beneficial for you. Especially if you’re worried about being immobilized for some time. I’ll ask Dr Alice—she’s our consulting therapist—to come check on you.”

Great. Now Arthur thought that Merlin was crazy.

“Ah, no, thank you, but I’m fine. They say I’ll make a full recovery in time. It’s just the stress and maybe the painkillers talking.”

“Perhaps,” Arthur agreed, although he didn’t look convinced. “Up and at ’em, then!”

He steadied Merlin again and handed him the crutches. “You can place some weight on the injured leg. It’s protected by the rod and the pins, so don’t worry, but do it carefully. Let’s start with 50 percent of the weight you’d normally put on it, all right? Lean on the crutches here and—wait—let me disentangle you from the IV… ”

It was hard. It was exhausting. It was painful, but indeed it was doable. And by the time Arthur had to go, Merlin managed to go to the bathroom and back—a small victory and a lot of freedom given back after being tied down to the bed with all the tubes. And when Merlin finally lay back down, he thought that maybe he’d actually be able to survive his stay here.

 

*

“Merry Christmas!” Arthur’s smile was just as bright as the previous day, but now that Merlin looked closer he thought there was something off in that expression; it seemed artificial somehow, like irritation or sadness lay beneath it. It was hard to tell. “How’s my favourite paratrooper feeling today?”

“Paratrooper?” Merlin decided to ignore the “favourite” part that for some reason made his heart rate accelerate a little.

“Those guys who jump from heights,” Arthur said, like this nickname was obvious.

Merlin merely blinked at him. They proceeded with the exercises. “So, how come you’re working on Christmas? Don’t you have someplace better to be?” Merlin asked. Surely Arthur, being the hospital director’s son, could have avoided a Christmas shift.

“No.” Arthur folded the elastic band he’d used to help Merlin with his foot and knee stretching. He offered no further explanation, and Merlin—not wanting to pry—didn’t ask more questions, focusing instead on the circling movement of his foot that he was exercising now. The pain was just as bad as it had been yesterday, and from what Merlin had Googled, he now knew that the rehabilitation process was going to be a bitch. He’d be discharged in pain, and the rehab process would last for a few long months at least. “And you?” Arthur asked. “You must have been planning on spending Christmas with your family, weren’t you?”

“Uh, not really.” Merlin didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t want to admit that the only person he’d even exchanged a few words with lately was his neighbour, and that the conversation was about the hot water shortage in their building. He remembered having friends once. He must have had them, right?

Arthur thankfully didn’t grill him about his non-existent Christmas plans. “Anyway,” he said. “I’m sorry you haven’t been discharged yet. Normally, you’d be out already.”

“Really?”

“Yes. The Christmas schedule interfered with the paperwork, and that’s why you’re stuck here. You’ll be signed out tomorrow, though.”

The idea of going home wasn’t as appealing to Merlin as one would think. He wasn’t looking forward to climbing the four flights of stairs to his one-bedroom apartment.

“I’ve got to run now,” Arthur said and winced.

Merlin nodded with understanding.

“I’m not working tomorrow—family dinner—but I’ll pop in to make sure you’re all set, okay?” Arthur smiled, and as much Merlin didn’t feel worthy of the attention, he couldn’t help but feel a bit better knowing he’d see Arthur once again before going home.

 

*

It was finally quiet in the ward for the night; the hum of the air ventilation and the fluorescent light bulbs made a soothing white noise, and only the squeaking of the soles of the nurses’ shoes cut the silence. Merlin was alone in the room, at least for the next two hours when the whole circus of temperature taking and blood pressure checking and wound examination and housekeeping would occur. There was nothing to do other than wallow in self-pity. Merlin tried to replay the meeting with Dr Alice, the therapist that Arthur had mentioned and must have sent to Merlin the previous day. It had been an odd visit—she’d asked a variety of questions, but the main one that stunned Merlin had been, “Was it an accident or did you jump off that I-beam?” Merlin had answered automatically, “Accident,” but now, as he was analysing and replaying the events of that day, he wasn’t so sure anymore. He had to admit that he’d been careless, that he’d known he was getting close to the edge. And then, when he’d been lying there on the ground during that brief moment between the fall and the inflow of pain, Merlin had thought, “Oh, finally.” He’d just been so tired, and the bliss of oblivion had been so much better than the everyday struggle. Of course, now—with his bones all screwed together, and with crutches an absolute necessity—the physical struggle was going to be so much worse. He guessed he could do his grocery shopping online and get things delivered, but no one was going to do laundry or washing up for him. 

He closed his eyes, pushing the thoughts away and thinking about the model of a dragon that he’d been assembling for months whenever he had some free time. Maybe now, on a long sick leave, he was finally going to finish it.

 

*

“Is someone picking you up?” Arthur asked the next day. True to his words, he had come to check on Merlin upon his discharge. The hospital was still in a dreamy holiday mode, the Christmas tree lights blinking in the lobby and relatives visiting the patients with wrapped gifts and food in Tupperware containers.

“No,” Merlin said. “I’ll manage, though.” He sat on the bed, trying to remember if he had enough money on him to call for a cab or if he should try to take the Tube.

Arthur looked at him as if he was delirious. “I have to disagree,” he said. “Let me give you a lift. I’m heading out, anyway.”

And Merlin would really decline this offer on any other day, he really would, but his head hurt, his leg hurt, and he didn’t have enough strength to say no. “Thank you,” he said.

Arthur looked around. “Where are your things?”

Merlin had nothing to pack—in fact, he’d had to borrow a set of clothes from the hospital as his jeans had been cut to get to his injury as fast as possible. He motioned to the stack of papers he’d gotten with all the prescriptions, appointment dates, and important things he needed to remember about his recovery.

Arthur frowned. It seemed to be his default expression with Merlin. “We’ll stop at the pharmacy and pick these up, shall we?” Arthur said. He handed Merlin the crutches and they slowly moved towards the elevators.

There was a sleek silver Mazda that looked like a large soap dish rather than a vehicle sitting in the underground hospital garage. Merlin watched in growing panic as Arthur opened the passenger door for him and grabbed the crutches to place them in between the seats.

“Yeah, I know,” Arthur said. “Not best suited for the transport of injured paratroopers. But in my defence, I only ever drive it alone.” He helped Merlin to lower himself down and fold somehow into the seat without jostling his leg too much. It was an almost impossible task.

“So, you don’t give lifts to all your patients?” Merlin asked in between taking breaths to forget about the pain.

“No.”

“So why me, then?”

Arthur looked at Merlin and smiled in the most flirty and gorgeous way, then started the car and rolled not so slowly out of the parking lot.

Merlin smiled too and bit his lip. It had been ages since he last had felt anything like interest or attraction, but he certainly felt it now. And normally he wouldn’t allow himself to even suspect that someone would be interested in him, but Arthur’s smile was… quite obvious.

 

*

By the time they had climbed the stairs, Merlin was drenched in sweat and wanted to bloody die right there and then. Everything hurt, his leg was on fire, his arms were sore from the crutches, and his hands were shaking so much that he was unable to place his key in the lock.

“Let me.” Arthur extracted the key from Merlin’s hand.

Merlin should have been accustomed to Arthur’s touch by now, after all the exercises and examination he’d done to Merlin’s leg, but it still sent a jolt of energy up his spine that made him feel even hotter.

When the door opened, Merlin turned to say goodbye to Arthur, suddenly anxious about the sight of the clothes scattered around his place and the sink full of dirty dishes. But Arthur barged in, not at all put off by the size of the place that resembled a cupboard more than a living room slash bedroom slash kitchen.

Merlin hobbled to his unmade bed and collapsed on it, out of breath and hurting. He’d move later. He’d shower later. For now, he had to close his eyes for just a few minutes.

“Here.”

Merlin opened his eyes to see Arthur putting a few packets of medicine on the bedside table along with a glass of water he must have fetched from the kitchenette across the room. Merlin wondered how Arthur had even found a clean glass.

“Do you know what’s what and when to take them?”

“Yes.” Merlin perched himself up and grabbed the painkiller first. He popped it open and swallowed one capsule down with some water. “Thank you.” He was acutely aware of Arthur’s presence. “I’d offer you something to drink, but…”

“That’s all right,” Arthur said. “Would you like me to sit with you for a while?”

Merlin looked up at the ceiling. Why was Arthur doing this? He tried for a light tone. “I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me.”

“Sure.” Arthur smiled. He took out his wallet and extracted a business card. “I’m leaving you my phone number in case you need anything. I don’t just mean things related to physiotherapy—you won’t be my patient anyway since I don’t work outside the hospital. But… You know. In case you need milk. Or another lift.”

Merlin tried to smile back but his heart was beating so fast and hard he was having trouble _thinking_. “Okay.” He watched Arthur go to the door.

“Get some sleep and call me if you need anything,” Arthur said and went out.

 

*

Merlin wasn’t going to call. He really wasn’t planning on it.

He’d woken up this morning from tangled dreams of Arthur in dirty, blood-stained armour, leading a medieval battle, disappearing in a mass of bodies, getting dragged down to the ground. Merlin had gasped and opened his eyes. His leg was throbbing all over, his wrist was swollen where the IV had been removed, tender bruising was spreading up his arm, and his stomach pinched painfully from all the medication he’d taken without eating much of anything. He tried to move, but it seemed like not only his leg but every other muscle in his body was damaged.

“Okay,” he said aloud. “Okay. I’ll stay here for a few moments more.”

He closed his eyes and breathed, pretending he was invisible, still under the effects of the anaesthesia, dreaming, but finally he had to get up. He didn’t expect to be so stiff and sore again. At the hospital, he’d had the advantage of painkillers being pumped right into his veins and the nurses’ or Arthur’s assistance with getting up. Here, he had to do it _all_ by himself.

The crutches pulled at his muscles as he hobbled to the bathroom. He briefly considered if peeing sitting or standing up would be less of a chore, but then he collapsed on the toilet seat, gasping from pain and trembling from the simple exertion. He cried for a while, telling himself he could only weep as long as he was still peeing. Then he pulled himself up and moved to the shower, wondering how the hell he was going to wash himself without getting his leg wet and without collapsing.

He sat down on the shower floor and gave himself a careful rinse, feeling like a Cirque de Soleil acrobat with all the weird stretching and positions he had to perform in order to get himself clean. It was exhausting, but feeling fresh was worth it. He moved with effort back to his bed. He lay down and closed his eyes. He’d get something to eat later, when he’d rested.

By the end of the day he knew there was no way he’d make it to his scheduled outpatient check-up appointment in the morning by himself. He was getting a little better with moving around the flat, and he’d managed to eat and keep down some overcooked oatmeal and wash the dishes, but there was no way in hell he was going to hop down all the stairs and then take the bus, or even a cab, to the doctor’s.

And there was absolutely no one he could ask for help.

He stared at the number for several long minutes, never mind that he already knew it by heart, and then agonized for a few more moments before hitting the call button. He waited for six long rings and was about to hang up when a familiar voice finally answered.

“Arthur Pendragon.”

“Hi. Um. It’s Merlin. Your paratrooper?”

There was a rustling sound as if Arthur was moving around. “Hello, Merlin! Good to hear from you. Can you give me a second?” More shuffling and rustling and some muffled voices. “Okay. Sorry, I’m with my family… I’ve just managed to slip outside. My father was starting to lecture me, there. I hoped you’d call. How are you?”

“I’m okay. Just, I was wondering if you could… You said to call. In case, you know, I needed something.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, and Merlin thought he heard some disappointment in Arthur’s voice. “What can I do for you, Merlin?”

“I need to get to the orthopaedist tomorrow for a checkup, and I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer for a lift. I’d take a cab, but I… There are stairs.”

“Of course! What time do you need to be there?”

They exchanged details and hung up, and once again Merlin was left to the silence of his apartment.

*

That night Merlin dreamt of Arthur again. This time Arthur was searching for him in thick woods, calling his name while Merlin was buried deep in a swamp, unable to move or to cry out that he was there. He woke up to the general soreness again, but he tried to ignore it, instead preparing as fast as he could to go out. By the time he’d made himself presentable, he was exhausted and overheated again. He was about to lie down for a moment when the doorbell rang.

Merlin took the crutches and moved slowly to the door, his heart pounding so hard he was breathless. That was… new. He’d not felt excitement about anything, and certainly anyone, in a longer than he could remember.

Arthur looked good in jeans and a black puffy winter jacket. Under his knit beanie, his eyes were breathtakingly deep blue.

“Hello!” he said, and took some time to look Merlin over. “You look… better. How are you?”

“Yes. I’m better, thank you. And thank you so much for helping me out. It’s still a bit difficult to move around. Or to fit some decent trousers on.” He fell silent after that, awkward about the trousers comment because it brought attention to the old loose sweats he’d managed to carefully put on. He was also embarrassed that he was troubling Arthur. And also because Arthur’s gentle smile was bloody blinding.

“Okay, shall we?” Arthur asked when Merlin stood there unmoving.

“Yes. Yes, let me get my jacket.”

Even dressing in his old winter parka was a chore—balancing on one leg and trying not to drop his crutches. Arthur stood patiently waiting for Merlin to dress; he didn’t offer to help. Once they started to descend the stairs, though, he kept close, hovering, and steadied Merlin twice when Merlin lost his footing and almost toppled down the stairwell. So that was about the state of things when it came to Merlin being self-sufficient. He really wouldn’t have been able to make this trip alone.

“So, no friends with decent cars, huh?” Arthur asked, and Merlin sighed because he’d anticipated a question like that. After all, it was pretty weird that he’d had to ask a total stranger for help.

“Eh. No friends, period, I’m afraid. See, I haven’t been here long. My mum died last year, and I moved to London to start over only recently.”

“I’m sorry.” It sounded sincere when Arthur said it—not the usual customary condolences Merlin was used to whenever he mentioned his mother. “I never knew my mother,” Arthur added as an afterthought. “She died in childbirth when I was born.”

Now it was Merlin’s turn to say, “I’m sorry.”

“Have you been doing the exercises I’ve given you?” Arthur changed the topic abruptly and for a split second Merlin didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Yes.” He bit his lip. “Well, a little bit.”

Arthur frowned. “It’s important that you do them two or three times per day, as I’ve written in your instructions. I know it might be painful still, but it’ll speed the recovery. I’ve seen patients who were on the mend after only eight or twelve weeks. Believe me, you don’t want to stay stiff for the next twelve months.”

Merlin chuckled. It was childish, but he couldn’t help himself. “Now, _that_ would be a horror.”

“What?” Arthur looked at him, and when he saw Merlin trying to suppress his laugh he shook his head and snickered too. “He said _erectus_ , huh?”

Merlin nodded, pleased that Arthur made a _Friends_ reference.

The parking lot under the medical offices was full this morning, so close to the end of the year. “Okay, let me help you with getting out.” Arthur climbed out of the car and went around. “I’m not working again until after the New Year, so I’ll wait here for you to take you back home, yes?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose. Climbing up the stairs is surprisingly easier than going down, so I think I’ll manage with a cab!”

“Nonsense.” There was a regal certainty in Arthur’s voice. “I’ll take you back.”

“Okay.” It was crazy to make Arthur wait for him in a parking lot, though. “But I’m not sure how long will it take.” For all Merlin knew it could be a few hours, especially with the crowd here. “Perhaps I can call you once I’m done?”

 

*

“I keep thinking that I know you from somewhere,” Arthur said on the way back to Merlin’s place. Outside it had started to rain and the wind had picked up—truly dreadful weather that made the sidewalks nearly impossible for someone on slippery crutches. Merlin was that much more grateful for the warmth of Arthur’s small car. “Are you sure you didn’t go to Eton or study medicine here in London or something?”

Merlin laughed. “Oh, I’m sure I’d remember that. No. It’s my first year in London and I’ve been working mostly in the Tube tunnels, so I have no idea where we could have met, but I have the same feeling, somehow, that I know you from somewhere. Have you ever been up to Ealdor?”

“No?” Arthur looked sheepish. “I’m not sure I know where that is.”

Merlin pretended to be offended. “You’re saying that you don’t know the _finest_ place on earth?”

“Sorry,” Arthur laughed. “I’ll need to remedy that as soon as I can! But I’m afraid it’s ‘no travelling’ for now, as I’m pretty busy at the hospital.”

“Is the physio job that demanding?” Merlin had a hard time believing that Arthur could be busier than a nurse or a surgeon.

“It’s quite a full schedule, yes, with all you lot falling off of buildings and so on. But that’s not it. I’m mostly doing this as a hobby and to piss my father off. I’ve always wanted to work with people, and he has different plans for me. So on top of the physio job I’m doing some property management for my father.” For a moment his face seemed clouded again, but then he shook his head and turned a blinding smile upon Merlin. “Anyway, I’m glad this feeling is mutual, then!”

Merlin smiled too. At least he wasn’t imagining this feeling of familiarity. He couldn’t shake the memories of his dreams, either. Somehow they seemed more real than any reality he’d ever experienced. Perhaps he had the painkillers to blame for it.

Climbing the stairs wasn’t easy, and if wasn’t for Arthur’s strong arms, Merlin wouldn’t have made it. He was sorry he couldn’t appreciate Arthur’s touch more, because he had to focus all of his energy on not falling over and not banging his leg into the steps. “Gods,” he said, panting. “Thank you so much.”

Arthur lingered in the hallway, kind of hovering. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” he asked.

Merlin chewed on the inside of his cheek. What could he say to make himself appear less pathetic than he really was? Nothing came to mind, so eventually he gave up and just shrugged. “Watching something on my laptop, I guess? Doing a few Buzzfeed quizzes to see which Star Wars character I am, and what the kind of cheese I like says about my personality?”

Arthur threw his head back in a laugh. “Sounds perfect. Can I join you? Or is it a one-person-only plan for the evening?”

Merlin really thought he was over his hospital-induced breakdown and that he’d not cry again, but he felt the choking pressure of tears and had to look away, internally praying for Arthur not to see it as a rejection. He swallowed and tried to blink the tears away while he answered, as lightly as he could, “I’d be happy if you stayed.”

Arthur started to remove his puffy jacket.

“But…” Merlin continued, and Arthur paused. “I’ve nothing to feed you or even give you to drink. I think there’s some tea, but that’s about it.”

“Tea’s good,” Arthur said, hanging his jacket on a hook. “We could order in, if you’d let this be my treat?”

“No, no, I’m the host so I’m paying!” Merlin exclaimed. He might be broke, at least for now, until the insurance money came in, but he could afford one takeout pizza.

Arthur moved closer to Merlin and took one crutch and then the other from him. He steadied him and then manoeuvred him onto the bed, which doubled as a couch in Merlin’s sorry excuse of an apartment. He helped him to prop his leg up. Then he crouched next to Merlin, so their faces were on an even level.

“I’d really like to take you on a proper date, Merlin,” he said, making Merlin absolutely breathless. “But since I can’t now, as I’d make you quite miserable with all the walking, here it is. At least let me buy you dinner?”

And how could Merlin possibly say no, when he had the God of Sun smiling at him with hope in his heavenly clear blue eyes.

“All right,” he said and smiled back.

“Great!” Arthur stood up and went back to his jacket to fetch his phone to order food.

 

*

“Oh my God,” Merlin moaned around the food which was _incredible_. Some spicy Indian paneer masala thing with flatbread had come from a fancy place, not any regular takeout booth down the street. He dabbed the next piece of naan bread in sauce and licked his fingers where some of it had dripped. “This is just… _indecent_ ,” he said, feeling like he could make love to the food, it was so good. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever eaten something so delicious. In fact, he couldn’t remember tasting any flavours since his move to London.

“I agree,” Arthur said, but when Merlin looked up at him he saw that Arthur wasn’t talking about the food at all. He was staring at Merlin’s lips and Merlin licking his fingers.

The moment stretched. A thick, caramel-like feeling of anticipation pooled in Merlin’s chest as Arthur leaned over the tray and hovered just inches from Merlin’s face, perhaps giving Merlin an out that Merlin didn’t need or want. So Merlin took a breath and then closed the distance himself, pressing his lips to Arthur’s.

If Merlin had been kissed like that before, it must have been in some other life, for he could not recall the sensation of falling and being caught, and falling and being caught, again and again, for eternity, and feeling as if his whole life had finally slotted into place—the place where it had always meant to fit in. Millions of images rushed through Merlin like a tide—Arthur in armour, Arthur sitting by a feast table, Arthur in a crown, Arthur playing dice, Arthur hugging him, Arthur crying, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur—and Merlin gasped and pulled back, terrified and elated at the same time.

Arthur looked as dazed. “Did you feel that?” he asked.

Merlin wasn’t sure if they were talking about the same thing but he nodded, trying to make sense of the visions, or dreams, that had just flashed through his head. All this was fading now, leaving some confusion behind, and a deep, scary and wonderful sense of belonging to this man who now stared at Merlin with awe.

“A film?” Merlin asked, not wanting to break away from Arthur but needing a moment to loosen up, lest the tension overwhelm them both.

Arthur nodded. “Okay. Yes. A film.”

They moved the food away and cleared the bed, Merlin staying put in his spot to avoid jostling his leg.

“Can you pass me my laptop, please?” Merlin pointed to his battered black notebook that was placed on the bedside table.

“You call this a laptop?” Arthur groaned when the old computer whirred to life, emitting more noise than a hairdryer. “And, Christ, what’s wrong with Netflix?” he added with horror when Merlin opened a VUZE folder with DVD rips downloaded from Piratebay.

“Monthly fee that I can’t afford?” Merlin said. He wasn’t proud of stealing, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He was glad that he had any Internet connection at all.

Arthur settled next to him and threw a blanket over their legs, making sure Merlin’s broken one was gently covered. “Yes, but that’s just plain stealing.”

Merlin looked the other way. “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I’ll buy everything for real as soon as I have the money.”

He felt a squeeze on his hand, offering reassurance, but also sending another rush of that crazed fever up Merlin’s body. “So, what are we watching?”

Merlin moved the mouse cursor over a folder. “I was planning on Ex Machina today?” He looked at Arthur to check if that was okay.

Arthur laughed. “Good cheery holiday fare with evil AIs and mad scientists? Sure, bring the Frankenstein feels on!”

As the film went on, Merlin felt Arthur’s body pressing closer and closer to him until he was practically plastered to Merlin’s side. It was the best Merlin had ever felt. It was something he hadn’t known that he’d dreamt about all his life.

“You know that he kinda looks like you? A bit?” Arthur said halfway through the film.

“What? Who?”

“The Gleeson bloke?” Arthur circled his finger around the image on the screen. “Just, you know, change his hair and eye colour?

“Oh, come on,” Merlin chuckled, warm from the attention. “Just because we’re Irish doesn’t mean we all look the same…”

“But those soft, full lips...” Arthur moved to lean over Merlin and kissed him once, then pressed closer, cupped Merlin’s cheek, and kissed him harder, tongue slipping inside Merlin’s mouth.

Merlin moved his hands to Arthur’s hair, pulling him closer, and a second later gasped and cursed from pain when the laptop that was perched on their legs slipped and hit him on one of the pins.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur moved back.

“No, no, it’s nothing,” Merlin wheezed, trying hard to ignore the pain and go back to kissing Arthur. “The bloody laptop fell and hit the hardware on my leg.”

“Let me.” Arthur closed the laptop and placed it on the floor, then moved back to cradling Merlin’s face.

And the kissing continued. Merlin thought that this was how happiness tasted.

Sometime later they resumed watching the film, and Merlin didn’t say anything when he heard Arthur’s light snoring; he’d fallen asleep cuddled next to Merlin.

 

*

Merlin woke up overheated under the pile of blankets and in pain. He’d dreamt of Arthur again, but for once the dream wasn’t disturbing—just him and Arthur sitting by a fire in fragrant, green woods. It was surreal to wake up next to the real Arthur. Merlin reached and grabbed Arthur’s hand to check if he was really here.

“Oh shit,” Arthur grumbled. “My God, I’m so sorry I fell asleep on you, Merlin. I wasn’t planning on this!”

“That’s okay.” Merlin tried to get up, every move making him grit his teeth. “When will this bloody stop hurting?” he whined, directing the question to Arthur, who got up looking quite beautiful with dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes.

“Once the pins are out and it sets, you’ll feel better.”

“What?” Merlin wanted to cry. “That long?”

“I’ll get you some water and painkillers, okay?” Arthur went to the kitchenette to fetch a glass of water and then passed it to Merlin. “Are you hungry?”

Instead of dashing for the door, Arthur was asking Merlin if he wanted breakfast. Merlin was surely in paradise—he must have died there when he’d fallen, and was now half-dreaming or in some other realm where sun gods drooled on his shoulder while sleeping and made _breakfast_ in his kitchenette. Only the pain made Merlin suspect that this was reality after all.

He got up with difficulty, hobbled to the bathroom to take a piss and brush his teeth, and then hobbled back to Arthur to watch him gather plates and peek into the mostly empty fridge. “What are you doing here?”

Arthur looked around and winked. “What does it look like? Trying to make breakfast for your majesty. That is… if I find _anything_ edible,” he added, frowning at a very old and mostly empty jam jar. He closed the fridge and turned around. “It appears you have Marmite, but no toast to spread it on.”

Merlin bit his lip. “No. I mean, what are you doing here, with me?” He couldn’t stop a nudging feeling that he was being pranked here. Arthur was way too good to be true. “I’m nobody. I don’t even own a plate that isn’t chipped.” He gestured to the countertop. “I suck even as a charity case. So?”

Arthur stood there, staring back at Merlin. “What are you saying? I just… There’s something about you that makes me feel like I’ve known you forever and I’m not saying it as a pick-up line no matter how stupid it sounds. I just _like_ you. I kind of got the feeling you maybe liked me too?”

And what _was_ Merlin saying? He just couldn’t believe that someone like Arthur—handsome, charming, intelligent, rich—would have any interest in Merlin, no matter how intense the feeling of familiarity.

“So, you’re not fucking with me?” Merlin leaned on the doorframe, already exhausted.

“Why would I?” Arthur moved and stood so close they were almost pressed to each other. Than he slowly hugged Merlin with one hand and gently turned him around to help him get back on the bed. “Just rest. I’ll fetch us some groceries and I will feed you. You need nutritious food if you want to heal fast. And take your pills.”

“You’re not my doctor,” Merlin said without a bite.

“No, thank God, I’m not. Because I wouldn’t be allowed to do this.” Arthur leaned in and kissed Merlin. He even tasted like sun, Merlin thought, closing his eyes.

 

*

The painkiller was settling in and Merlin looked up at his cracked ceiling, thinking what the fuck was he going to do. If Arthur really liked him—which seemed impossible but somehow true—then Merlin was at loss. He had nothing to offer, really. He wasn’t just poor and miserable, and crippled now—he was boring, undereducated, and without any prospects. A true nobody. Even if Arthur was interested in a quick fuck, Merlin was most probably not the best choice, as getting fucked in his current state was pretty impossible. But perhaps Merlin could let himself have this? Even if this wasn’t going anywhere, and it couldn’t really after barely a few days, he could at least enjoy this moment? And cry later when it ended?

That was how Arthur found Merlin when he came back with grocery bags—half dreaming, half awake, resigned to his fate of being broken-hearted later and desperate to seize the day for now. And that’s why Merlin pulled Arthur close to him when Arthur leaned over the bed to check on him, and kissed Arthur, and then pulled him in even harder, until Arthur was half lying on top of him and they were kissing like crazy, messy and rough.

Arthur pushed his hands under Merlin’s T-shirt, caressing Merlin’s skin, then moved his palm to stroke Merlin’s cock through the fabric of his clothes, making Merlin moan. Sex hadn’t been on Merlin’s radar for ages, but now he wanted Arthur so much. He wanted Arthur’s cock inside him, he wanted to be fucked, even if logistically it wasn’t doable right now.

Arthur pressed closer, urging Merlin to spread his legs further, which proved to be impossible with the broken one getting in the way.

“Oh my God, sorry.” Arthur pulled back. “Let’s try it another way, okay?”

“I don’t…” Merlin started to say, but Arthur hooked his fingers in Merlin’s sweatpants and briefs and pulled them down a notch, and the words died in Merlin’s throat.

“May I blow you?”

“Who even asks such a question?” Merlin said, breathing hard.

“Is that a yes?” Arthur cocked his head.

“Of course it’s a yes.”

At the first lick of Arthur’s tongue on the underside of Merlin’s cock, Merlin was sure he’d come undone in just a few moments. It’d been years, bloody ages, since anyone had done it to him, and Arthur was… incredible in every single aspect. He was Merlin’s dream; he felt like destiny embodied. Merlin’s cock throbbed and he wasn’t going to last. He tried closing his eyes but that only made him focus more on the incredible feeling of Arthur’s mouth sliding up and down, Arthur’s tongue swirling around the top of Merlin’s cockhead. Fuck, he was so done. He opened his eyes to the sight of Arthur’s lips stretched wide around Merlin’s cock, shiny with spit, red, and Arthur’s hand, moving rapidly over Arthur’s own cock.

“Oh gods,” Merlin whispered. This sight of Arthur jerking himself off, getting off on sucking Merlin’s dick—this was too much and Merlin came, spurting half inside Arthur’s mouth and half all around, making a mess of everything when Arthur pulled back to look at him. A few seconds later Arthur came too in his own fist, open-mouthed, panting and beautiful on his knees next to Merlin’s bed.

Arthur leaned his forehead on Merlin’s thigh then, still shuddering lightly, calming down.

“You’re so beautiful,” Merlin said, in awe, caressing Arthur’s cheek. For some reason he had a feeling they were doing it all wrong—that he should be the one on his knees, serving Arthur forever, worshipping him like a servant should worship his master.

Arthur snorted but didn’t move away from the touch of Merlin’s fingers that now stroked his hair. They could stay like this forever, Merlin thought, but Arthur’s phone rang and the moment was gone.

Everything was sticky with come, and when Arthur finally got up to wipe himself up, Merlin groaned. “I need to take a shower now, I think.”

“Yeah, me too. Let me get that phone first,” Arthur said.

Merlin’s shower stall was way too small for two people, and Merlin couldn’t even get under the shower spray with his leg needing not to get wet, but he nodded and pulled his briefs and sweatpants up to get to the bathroom. He was considering getting a wipe-down instead of doing all the acrobatics required to shower when he heard Arthur’s voice rise.

“No,” Arthur said into the phone. “I’m sorry, but I’ve already declined twice, and I don’t understand why you keep asking me this. I will not attend Morgana’s New Year’s Eve party. No, she won’t be disappointed—she won’t even notice that I’m not there! It’s a ball for more than a hundred people!”

There was a moment of silence, interrupted only by Arthur’s agitated steps as he marched back and forth in the tiny space of Merlin’s flat.

“I’m with a friend. No. You don’t know him. No. Yes, I think so—it’s too early to say. Okay, bye.” There was a pause then and Arthur walked to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry. Let me help you with this,” he said, reaching for Merlin’s hand to help him up. Arthur’s voice sounded off, too cheerful, as if he’d reverted to his “Arthur the physio” role. A day ago Merlin perhaps wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference, but now it was obvious.

“Are you all right?” Merlin asked, and Arthur paused.

“Yes. It’s just my father, who wants to control every single aspect of my life. I’m just sick of it. Lean back for me, please?”

“Are you helping me with showering?” Merlin asked, stopping Arthur mid-motion.

Arthur shook his head, but then nodded and laughed. “Just habit. Sorry, I’ll leave you to it.” But when Merlin didn’t take his hand and instead pulled Arthur closer, Arthur looked up. “Unless,” he said, “you’d like that?”

“Provided you don’t usually blow your patients and then wash them?”

Arthur’s face did a complicated expression of disgust, horror and offense. “Fuck, no. Why would you even put that image in my head? Please keep in mind that most of my patients are elderly women with broken hips or diabetics with amputated limbs, not gorgeous young paratroopers with sapphire eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass…” He smiled at Merlin, a bit flushed.

Merlin smiled back, not knowing how to handle those compliments. “In that case—yes, please. I was sitting here, thinking I’d rather just splash some water on me so I don’t have to go through the whole showering business, but since I’ve got you here…”

“Let me get undressed then. It’ll be easier if we can both fit into the shower.”

It _was_ easier with Arthur. In fact—it was _doable_ with Arthur, and Merlin didn’t even flinch when Arthur slipped behind him, naked and gorgeous with his broad chest and strong arms. He had no problem holding Merlin up with one hand as he moved his other palm slowly down Merlin’s body to lather his abdomen, then dick, then balls. Merlin moaned when Arthur’s finger slipped into his crack, rubbing slow circles at his hole.

“I do want this,” Merlin said. “Eventually. _So much._ But I’m not strong enough to stand here long on one leg and in this position, even when you’re half-holding me up like this.”

“I know,” Arthur agreed, and managed to sound only a little disappointed. Instead, he slid his hand around to Merlin’s cock and gave it a lathered tug until Merlin was fully hard again. Merlin in turn moved his own hand behind him to stroke Arthur. Arthur’s cock was thick and heavy, a perfect weight in Merlin’s fist. It would fit even better in Merlin’s mouth with Merlin on his knees before this gorgeous man, but that would have to be saved for later, for when Merlin was fully healed. For now, Merlin leaned farther back, trying to make room for his hand jacking Arthur at a bit of an uncomfortable angle. And he tried to thrust up with his hips lightly enough to not jostle his leg again.

 _It’s worth it,_ he thought, meaning the awkward position, the uncomfortable tiles of the shower floor, the water splashing around that he’d have to mop later, even the fall itself and the pain of his broken leg—it was all worth it if it brought him to this very moment and to the sensation of having Arthur shudder behind him and come in Merlin’s fist before Merlin followed with his own release.

*

After, Arthur made scrambled eggs and toast while wearing Merlin’s biggest T-shirt that stretched tightly across Arthur’s chest and highlighted his muscles. His arse looked delicious in Merlin’s boxer briefs too, for his own clothes were stained with come and dirty and were currently circling with Merlin’s own clothes in the ancient washing machine in the kitchen. Merlin got dressed in a fresh T-shirt and shorts, and they ate together in Merlin’s bed again with Merlin’s leg resting comfortably on a makeshift cradle Arthur had made from a blanket and a pillow. The bed desperately needed a change of sheets that Merlin probably wasn’t fit to do right now. _But now he had Arthur to help him do the second load of laundry later._

“Why are you smiling?” Arthur asked.

“No reason,” Merlin said, not wanting to use any clichéd phrase like, “I’m happy that you’re here.” Merlin just wanted to _keep_ Arthur so, so much.

Arthur returned the smile and bit into his toast. “What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?”

Merlin shrugged, “I hadn’t planned anything even before the accident. I think I’ll do pretty much what I do every evening—I’ll eat cereal and watch a film, maybe get into an online discussion about how Captain America is obviously queer.”

“Sounds lovely,” Arthur said without mocking. “I’d ask you to my sister’s party, but I have a perfect excuse to… not go…” He gestured to Merlin’s leg. “…and to ask if I can join you here, instead?”

“You want to join me. Here. In this shithole. To argue about Captain America’s queerness.”

“Yes,” Arthur said, very serious. He was staring intently at Merlin’s eyes. Offering something, asking for something in return.

“Okay, then,” Merlin answered, just as serious. In Merlin’s mind, timelines whirled around, universes collided, and the world folded in upon itself, pinning him and Arthur in its very centre. “So, stay with me, please.” Now and forever, he thought, and didn’t say out loud.

Arthur’s returning smile was bright and as warm as the summer sun.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ironically enough, my husband has suffered a similar injury to Merlin from this story, so I know now that some of the PT that I have written isn't EXACTLY as it would be done in this situation. But since I haven't written some extremely not plausible things I'm leaving it as is. ;) If you are curious about how it should really look like, let me know and I'll try to do my best to describe it.


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